A/N : Still More To Come...
I stood at the door to the kitchen, bracing myself. I took a deep inhalation, fixed a smile on my face, and walked in.
"Oh. Hello, dear!" Mrs Weasley greeted me, pouring me a glass of pumpkin juice and gesturing to a chair opposite Ginny at the table, " How are you?"
The older witch examined me as I sat down. I was slightly embarrassed because I knew I looked tired and worn out.
"Goodness, Hermione, you look dead on you feet! Are you getting enough sleep? Perhaps you would like a coffee…?" asked Mrs Weasley, with the same look of concern as her daughter had had on her face just fifteen minutes ago.
"No, no, I'm fine, really. This is lovely." I remarked, drinking deeply from my glass.
"Don't worry, mum. She's sleeping with me tonight-" Ginny started.
The mother and daughter looked round as I spluttered and choked on my juice.
I looked up, pointed vaguely at my throat, and gasped "Went down the wrong way."
Ginny looked away from me an continued, "Yeah, so, she's in my room tonight. I'll make sure she gets a decent sleep."
I swallowed this time, my face beetroot red. I could be such a child sometimes.
"Won't it be a little cramped?" mused Mrs Weasley, setting down two platefuls of breakfast in front of Ginny and I.
"No, we'll be fine, won't we Hermione? I mean we managed up until we were… 18? Doubt we've grown much in a year…" Ginny joked, smiling at me over a sausage speared on a fork.
I just nodded, not really concentrating on the conversation more just taking the chance to sneak a glance at Ginny while she and her mother weren't looking.
Mrs Weasley joined us eventually with a cup of something hot and steaming. She and Ginny chatted aimlessly and I was deep in thought, about how the night would turn out.
I finished my breakfast absentmindedly, excused myself and went for a walk in the garden, pondering over Ginny for the billionth time in my life.
----
Me, 18, and Ginny in the broom shed at the Burrow. We had often gone there to escape the testosterone filled house only 100 yards away. We normally just sat and talked, maybe about those we'd lost or, fleetingly, the battles we had fought to save our people. Normally.
This day though it was raining, and the weather seemed to mirror our moods. The twins had said something that had apparently got to Ginny so she had stormed off into the garden, and I had, of course, followed her. As a friend would do.
I had trailed after her into the medium-sized shed to find her sitting with her head in her hands on an upturned flowerpot. She hadn't even looked up at me when I had came in, she just got up and buried her head in my shoulder.
I had been shocked that Ginny, who was so strong, so brave, was now sobbing into my neck. I had stood still, bemused, for a moment before I realised that I had to do something. But it wasn't that easy when my stomach was threatening to explode.
I had wrapped my arms around her, patting her awkwardly on the back before letting my hands rest uncomfortably. I was scared to swallow, I was scared to breathe. I was scared that she could hear my heart beating much faster than it should have been.
And we just stood there. She had her arms around my neck, her nose, her lips, against my collarbone. I could feel her tears on my skin. She had kept pulling me closer, making me want to groan out loud. Instead, I just hugged her tighter, not wanting to let go, but it was causing me so much pain. I had been so close but…
We just stood there in semi-darkness, among the brooms, the spiders watching us suspiciously.
After what seemed like an eternity, yet still not long enough, she looked up at me. And I had seen the most heart-breaking picture in front of me, her eyes begging for help, for release from her own hurt and depression. I just stared at her. She was shredding my soul into a million insignificant pieces.
And then she had laughed. She had wiped her eyes, finished showing me a glimpse of her inner self. She had shook her head, squeezed my hand, and smiled sadly at me. It was over before we'd even spoken a word.
So we had headed back up to the house together, in thoughtful silence. I had seemed to have calmed her, but I didn't know what I had done exactly. It had been a defining moment in our relationship, we understood each other perfectly without the need to communicate verbally. And it made me want her more.
I had just had one worry in my head at that point in time : If I could read her feelings in her eyes, what had she seen in mine's?
----
I loved the Burrow. I loved to go for walks in it's garden, it soothed me somewhat. But everything in it reminded me of Ginny. Yes, I loved the Burrow, but it tore me apart.
I found my usual seat in a small clearing between a group of tall trees at the furthest point from the house. I just sat, looking around, looking for answers. I rubbed my forehead and eyes with my hand, and sighed. Sighing seemed to come so easily to me now-a-days.
I thought about work, I thought about Ginny, I thought about work with Ginny. How hard it was, how good it was, how painful it was. I thought about why we had to stay at the burrow, as a pit-stop in our duties. I thought about how long it would take for me to break. A year and counting so far.
I lay back, my head on the bare grass, looking through the green leaves of the tree above me to the blue sky splattered with white fluff. It was a glorious day.
I shut my eyes and imagined her, her eyes sparkling mischievously, her hair shining in the sun. I imagined her here next to me, both of us enjoying ourselves, not a care in the world.
And then I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed, and I laughed. For it was the only way to stop me from crying.
